


Hedonism

by madlaw



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Mission for the Machine, More violence than canon, Murder, Serial Killers, Sex Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-29 01:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11429877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlaw/pseuds/madlaw
Summary: They're at a sex club and Root's horny.  She gives Shaw a choice.





	1. Offer

“Root,” Shaw hisses, her mouth hidden behind a flute of champagne.

“Umhmm?”

“What are you doing?” she whisper-growls.

Shaw can see exactly what Root’s doing since she’s splayed out on a couch a few feet in front of her. There’s a redhead on the couch reclining towards Root, hand caressing Root’s leg while Root playfully twirls her hair. Meanwhile, an extremely sexy brunette with piercing eyes sits on the floor in front of Root casually resting her head on her crossed hands, practically up Root’s dress.

Root and Shaw are in the back room of Hedonism, a sex-club, waiting for their number to show up. They’re not sure if she’s the victim or perpetrator or what she’s involved with.

“We’re on a mission,” Shaw reminds Root, voice low and dangerous.

“mmmmm…” Root smiles seductively at the redhead and turns her head slightly. “She’ll tell me when the number arrives, Sameen. It’s a club; let go a little sweetie.”

While Shaw watches, Root spreads her legs slightly and the redhead slots between them, her head practically at Root’s breasts. With the shift, the brunette slides a hand under Root’s dress, settling on her thigh.

Shaw can see Root’s eyes turning to dark pools of desire, her breath shallow, nipples hard through her dress. Root dips her head towards the redhead, capturing her lips with her teeth, teasing with her tongue. She can hear Shaw grinding her teeth through her earpiece but ignores her. She whispers something to the redhead and Shaw sees her pupils dilate in response. Root bends down and lightly kisses the brunette at her feet before she stands. The women watch Root walk away but stay by the couch.

Root walks over to Sameen, who’s leaning so hard into the bar, Root’s surprised the wood hasn’t cracked. The bartender immediately appears, giving Root a flirtatious wink. “What can I get your gorgeous?”

“Moscow Mule darlin’,” Root smirks.

Shaw rolls her eyes and scowls. “If you’re not going to…”

Root turns to face Shaw, a serious look in her eyes. She places a fingertip on Shaw’s lips. “Sameen, this is normally the part where you say it’s all about the mission and I flirt and you shut me down; we take down or save the number and go our separate ways.”  Shaw opens her mouth, but can’t seem to come up with something to say so Root continues.

“That’s not going to happen tonight.  I’ve wanted you since the day we met.  You know what I want and I’ve given you plenty of time to think about it.  Here are your options tonight: you can watch while I let that brunette eat me out while the redhead sucks on my nipples and bites my neck while I fuck her, or you can walk away, or you can take their place.”

Shaw’s eyes are deadly still.  “You let them touch you and there will never be anything between us.”  Root shrugs with less concern than she feels.  “What exactly is it you think I’m offering Sameen?”  She grins playfully, but Shaw doesn’t blink and doesn’t answer.  Root shrugs again.  “There’s nothing between us now anyway; isn’t that right Shaw?”

Root smiles at the bartender and chugs her drink, wiping an elegant finger along her lower lip slowly, then sucking it dry. She walks away without a backwards glance.


	2. Counter-Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw gives in to the inevitable.

But Shaw holds her wrist in a vice-like grip before she takes her second step and pulls her into her body.  Her eyes are raging and Root smiles seductively.  “Stop playing games Root,” Shaw hisses.  Root presses in closer, her eyes challenging.  “You want to own me Sameen?” she whispers onto her lips.  Shaw hates the way her body catches fire; hates that Root has that power. 

She glances away and her eyes find the redhead with murderous fury.  Root smirks.  “Going to intimidate all the women tonight sweetie?  You wouldn’t want to draw attention and _jeopardize_ …the mission.”  Shaw knows she’s playing right into Root’s sick little game, but she’s not standing by while another woman touches her.  She finds even the thought unacceptable. 

She claims Root’s lower lip with her teeth until the taste of copper coats her tongue.  Root’s wince courses through Shaw's blood and she thrusts her tongue into Root's mouth demanding submission.  Root can’t help the moan that escapes her throat.  Shaw ends it before it even really starts and whispers hotly into Root’s ear.  “Here’s _your_ option tonight; them…or me?”  

Shaw knows she’s capitulating, but she also knows it’s inevitable; this spark they’ve been fanning into a flame since they laid eyes on each other.  Root licks her bruised lips slowly and cocks her head playfully like she’s thinking about it, even though she knows it’s no contest.  There’s barely controlled violence in the thrust of Shaw’s jaw and Root wants to feel it blistering on her skin.  She gives Shaw a searing look and a wicked grin.  “I thought you’d never ask.” 

But Root cocks her head, listening to the Machine.  “Playtime will have to wait sweetie.  We need to go,” Root grins sardonically.  “And just when we were starting to really connect.”                  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this its own chapter because I felt it deserved to stand on its own; equally significant with everything that came before and will come after.


	3. The Internet Is Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this moment, insignificant to Shaw, Root can feel a shift; her world coming into focus in the eyes of the woman sitting next to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is almost 5,000 words of plot. Criminal Minds fans may recognize the blatant rip-off and slightly distorted plot of the episode The Internet Is Forever. Season 5, episode 22. Mainly because I think it pairs Hacker Root and Killer Shaw perfectly. 
> 
> I never intended for this story to have any plot other than Root and Shaw getting it on. But as often happens when I sit down to write, my mind just went off and everybody wanted more, I'd like to remind you! 
> 
> To give context, these events unfold somewhere in the nebulous reaches of Season 3. Root mostly plays with Shaw's head cuz its fun and wants to fuck her cuz she's hot. Shaw thinks Root's hot too, really hot in fact, but she's committed to not letting Root have her way. With her. Although she's maybe starting to accept it's inevitable. Her actions already reflect her self-assigned role as Root's protector but her brain hasn't processed it yet. 
> 
> Root's still in transition, not quite the post Machine Root; still figuring out who she wants to be for TM and maybe starting to care what a certain former assassin thinks of her.
> 
> TM is still giving primarily numbers.
> 
> Oh and I hate Finch so he's off with Reese somewhere, the first being self-righteous and the second long-suffering. 
> 
> There will be one more chapter with all the smut/porn I originally intended and I know most of you are expecting/wanting (me too).
> 
> As always, feed the author and thanks for all the support!
> 
> Special thanks (also inevitable) to MJ for helping unblock my mind! <3

The sky is hazy, pollution fading its colors, giving it a dull appearance.  If Root believed in omens the weather might’ve created a sense of foreboding.  But she knows the universe is cold and chaotic and it’s certainly not paying attention to the weather.  She’s drawn out of her musings when Shaw finds a car to steal.   

Even in the city, where people should know better, there’s always someone who leaves their car unlocked.  They can always break in of course, but it draws less attention when some idiot makes it easier.  Shaw pops the steering column, finding the right wires and stripping them within seconds, short-circuiting the ignition system.  She grins smugly, “where are we going?”

But Root’s distracted, her deft fingers flying over the keys of her laptop, and doesn’t answer right away.  “Our number’s name is Vangelija Atanasov.  She was supposed to be at the club tonight but disappeared from her house.  Her boyfriend came to pick her up and she was gone, but her car was in the driveway. No one’s seen or heard from her after 7pm.  No useful camera feeds in the house or surrounding areas since it’s residential.” 

Tension floods the small space but neither mentions the scene at the club and they ride the rest of the way in silence.

 

* * *

 

The house is a completely non-descript suburban family home.  There’s a squad car angled on the curb, the light bar flashing but silent.  A detective is questioning a gangly man wearing a moustache that looks like whiskers on a hairless cat; he must be the boyfriend.    

Root flashes an NYPD badge and no one questions their presence.  She snags a CSU jacket surreptitiously and slips it to Shaw.  “I’ll talk to the detective.”  He’s reminiscent of Harold’s pet monkey, sporting a black suit with a white shirt.  He’s done talking to the boyfriend and Root introduces herself.  He shakes her hand.  "Aron Olvirsoon, homicide." 

“What do we have so far?”

He looks at her thoughtfully.  “Nothing except she’s the third woman to go missing in the last three months, which is why we responded so quickly instead of shuffling it to missing persons.  Piper Waller and Shayla Humphrey went missing a month apart.  Although the women are all in their early 30s and live alone, the differences are more striking than the similarities; different hair colors, body shapes.”

Root sees Shaw walking out of the house and excuses herself.  “Anything?”

“No, but did you hear about the other women?  Both crimes scenes were pristine, no DNA besides theirs, and no sign of forced entry or a struggle.  They weren’t reported missing until a few days after they disappeared.”  Root looks back at the house pensively.  “Sam women like these don’t go missing without someone noticing.  Come on, I don’t think there’s anything more we can do here.”

 

* * *

 

Root’s face has been buried in her laptop since they arrived at the safe house.  Her annoyingly stunning face made even hotter by her stupid librarian glasses, Shaw thinks.  “This trail’s getting colder by the minute Root.”  She responds with only a distracted nod to Shaw’s impatience. 

Shaw ransacks the cupboards looking for a snack but finds nothing but Finch’s mundane tea bags, which only increases her irritation.  Root keeps typing one-handed and reaches into her mailbag.  She hands Shaw a protein bar without a word.  Shaw rolls her eyes and frowns, but hunger wins out over pride and she snatches the bar from Root’s hand, tearing it open and taking a bite.

“I know how he finds his targets Sam.  The three of them have an extensive digital footprint all over social networking sites.  All of them made a habit of posting everything from what they were having for dinner to where they were going on dates.  Piper and Shayla’s last posts mirror each other; they’re going out of town for a couple of days.  But the time and date stamp show they were posted the morning after they went missing.  Root looks up, “they all frequented Hedonism.”

“It means Piper and Shayla are probably dead Root.  The posts guarantee no one will look for the women for two or three days; he can do whatever he wants before anyone realizes they’re missing.  He friends his victims and then stalks them at the club,” Shaw concludes.  “Maybe he even talks to them.  But how do we find one person out of all the ones ‘friended’ by these women?”

“How do _we_ spy on people Sameen?”

“Cameras; but they didn’t find cameras in the house.  So how did he get them inside and where are they?”

“The internet; it’s the first thing humanity has built that it doesn't understand, the largest experiment in anarchy that we’ve ever had.”

Shaw rolls her eyes and sighs with impatience.  “Root, metaphysics aside, the internet doesn’t get him physical access to the house.”

Root goes back to her computer, face scrunched in concentration.  “It would’ve been so much easier if the club had security cameras or some type of sign-in system,” she mutters.

Shaw would usually be on the couch right now, probably taking a nap.  But instead she sits at the table with Root, watching her.  If Root notices she doesn’t show it.  Tonight Shaw felt an intense wave of possessiveness; something she’s never felt before.  What about this incorrigible hacker lures her like a moth to a flame, knowingly _wanting_ to be scorched?

Root’s impervious to Shaw’s threats, treating them like declarations of undying devotion; responding with a knowing smile or a playful innuendo or her pathetic attempt at winking.  Most people flee Shaw’s chilling intimidation, but she just saunters over like it’s an inside joke. 

Root turns destruction into a work of art and Shaw relates to that on a deeper level than she wants to admit.  Looking at her Shaw knows Finch is right.  _Root hacks human beings as easily as she hacks computers._   But Shaw’s firewall has always been impenetrable…and yet. 

Root sees Shaw; her eyes always conveying a deep conviction there’s nothing defective about Shaw.  She’s ruthless and unyielding, her true self obscured in a puzzled web of inconsistencies, yet she treats Shaw like her most prized possession.  It’s infuriating, but also really hot.  If Shaw were in the mood for self-reflection she might admit she finds Root enthralling, inexplicable, and just…powerful.  But she pushes the knowledge deep down where hopefully Root will never find it.

“Clever.”  Shaw’s pulled from her thoughts by Root’s sudden declaration.  “Each of the women accepted an offer for free fiber-optic installation; ‘see how much faster than DSL’.  That’s how he gets inside.  He installs the cameras while he lays the cable and their whole lives are bared for him to see.  The video can be transmitted anywhere.”

He may be clever but Shaw knows no one matches Root’s sheer genius; not even Finch.  “So how do we find him?”

“The internet never forgets,” Root responds enigmatically before once again bending over her laptop, getting lost in some ephemeral space Shaw doubts she’ll ever understand.  She looks up a few minutes later.  “I have an algorithm searching illegal video websites and another using facial recognition looking for any trace of the women appearing after their disappearances.  But it’ll take time.”

“Time Vangelija may not have.”  The minute the words escape Shaw’s mouth she regrets them; a flash of hurt appears in Root’s eyes before she masks it with her usual cocky confidence.  Shaw knows Root’s doing everything possible to save the number and her comment was driven by her own frustrations.  She’s struggling with her need to fight; she wants to find the perpetrator and put him in the ground, not sit around impotent while he murders another innocent woman.  There will be no knee-capping on this one.  But apologies aren’t really her thing and she thinks Root probably understands.  “I’m going to get food,” she announces as she walks out.

Root’s on her laptop, the staccato sound of the keys echoing loudly when Shaw returns with a pizza.  She plates a slice, setting it next to Root on the table.  Root glances over and takes a second to flash Shaw a genuine smile and for a moment everything’s different somehow.  Shaw ordered half the pizza with pineapple, which Root loves and Shaw considers an affront to pizzas everywhere.  It’s more significant to Root than any apology and Shaw knows it.

“He took a video and posted it online Sam.  Normally I would’ve found him in 10 seconds; his physical address in 12.  But he’s a decent hacker, I’ll give him that.”

They’ve both been assuming the perpetrator’s a man, but Shaw wonders if maybe it’s possible she’s actually a woman.  “wht mks yu thnk iz a mn?”  Her mouth is stuffed with pizza, but even so Root understands her.  “If these women are dead, then we’re chasing a serial killer; statistically speaking only 10% of them are women.”  Of course; Root lives her life now based on probabilities.  It’s all the Machine ever gives her.

“He’s using dozens of proxy servers, bouncing his signal off of China, North Korea, Russia, and South Africa so it’ll take me a few minutes…Fuck!” Root shouts, but it’s the look of disgust on her face that worries Shaw.  “One of the proxy servers archived what he was streaming on the night of Piper’s disappearance.  He murdered her, Sam.  He set up a chat room and streamed it online.  People watched Piper get murdered in real time.”

Even for people like Root and Shaw, it’s barbaric.  “You mean he has an audience?”

“Worse.  They’re fans Sameen; it’s all a performance to him.” Another 10 seconds and there’s another muttered curse.  “I traced it, but its Piper’s own wireless.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the trail ends back at her house, which doesn’t tell us anything.  He probably removes the cameras when he abducts his victims.  The video's zoomed in on Piper so there's nothing hinting at the secondary location.”

“I know you can think of something else Root.  This maniac’s not smarter than you.”  It’s the first time Shaw’s actually even semi-complemented her and it throws Root for a second.  No one’s ever had this kind of faith in her and coming from Shaw she knows it’s not pseudo encouragement.  Shaw doesn’t lie about anything to anyone; she doesn’t care enough about anyone else to try and spare their feelings.

“Hackers are very loyal to their spoofing techniques and if they think no one's watching they'll use the same roads over and over.  I’m flagging those exact servers in the exact order.  If he uses them again, I’ll have him.”

Shaw hears what she’s not saying; that’ll only help if he starts streaming another murder.  “After he starts streaming, how long will it take to find him?”

“With the international pinging it may take me a few minutes; these proxies are like chasing a falcon on crack.  Plus then we have to get to him.”  Root sighs with exasperation.

“Even if we can’t save the number Root we need to catch this guy.  We’ll be saving who knows how many numbers down the road.”

“It’s not enough Sameen.  We need to save her.”  Root’s right; there’s nothing else Shaw can say and for probably the first time ever she loses her appetite.  She stands behind Root and watches the screen.  There’s a picture of each woman in the corner and something’s bugging Shaw. 

“Root, strip away eye and hair color and skin tone.”  Root does it instantly without asking why.  “Think geometrically; their left eyes are all slightly lower than the right eye, all the noses are narrow, and the foreheads all have the same ridge.  Symmetry.”  Shaw often worked off vague and grainy images when tracking targets for the ISA, so she learned to study the features, the outline of faces in order to identify them; features that can’t be easily altered.

They sit in silence, thinking.  “Attraction is based on facial symmetry we recognize,” Root ruminates.  “So maybe they’re a reflection of him.”  Shaw’s synapses fire and she makes the connection instantly.  “Narcissus, Root.  In the Greek myth, he was so self-absorbed he fell in love with his own reflection in the water.  So maybe he’s recognizing himself in these women.” 

“But how does that help finding him?”

Shaw shrugs and cocks her head.  “So maybe we have a rough composite of this guy based on the women's features; it may be useful down the line.”

Root seamlessly transitions to the task at hand and the one thing she’s better at than the perpetrator.  “He’s definitely experienced with computers and home networks.  He’s spoofing his signal off different servers but some of them are decoys; I’m weeding those out.

Got him!  He’s streaming right now Sam; he has the chat room open and there’s a countdown.”  Shaw can see the fury in the tilt of Root’s jaw and the desperation in her eyes.  This is where they’re so different.  Shaw wants to find and end this guy just as much as Root.  But she doesn’t _feel_ it; it’s an intellectual choice.  She places a hand on Root’s shoulder and she feels some of the tension drain from Root’s body.  Immediately her face clears and she’s back at the keyboard.  “I’m tracing the chat room users…”  But Root stops; she’s missing something.  Something important.  “The cable!

Sameen you have to call Fusco!”  Shaw dials while Root explains.  “Fiber optic cable has identification numbers.  We may be able to trace him through the cable he used for his ruse.”  Shaw reaches Fusco and explains.  She waits a minute while he contacts Olvirsoon.  Root finds the company that ordered the cable and the owner’s address before Shaw’s even off the phone.  She jumps up, “let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

They burst through the door and an older balding man rushes to the phone.  Shaw places a bullet through it.  “The next one goes in your knee.”

“What do you people want?!” 

No matter the situation, Root’s calm; which is creepier than it sounds.  “Someone’s using your cable as part of a ruse to get into women’s houses and murder them.”

“Jeffery!  Jeffrey Polley!  It has to be; he worked on one of our trucks as we laid the fiber in with the regular phone line.  We caught him hoarding it; he said it was for a home project.  But we got angry phone calls that he was going door to door offering free fiber-optic installation. We fired him on the spot.”

As soon as they’re back in the car Root spits out an address.  “His name’s not Jeffrey Polley; its Tom Sims.  The picture on his employee ID matches the composite.  He was arrested for possession of torture videos.  I found an online blog with his hacker handle; that’s the name that matters.”

“So you found him?” Shaw asks as she blows through a red light.  “No, but I found one of the chat room’s bottom-feeders.  He downloaded the video of Piper and he’s logged in now.”

 

* * *

 

Within minutes of busting down his door, Neville Christophers finds himself minus an ear which Shaw shot clean off.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he begs while he cries, holding both hands to his ear.  Shaw slams him onto a chair at his dining room table.  Root impales his hand with a knife.  “You tell us what we want to know Neville…”  Root has a scary grin on her face, where she’s smiling like you’re her long lost friend, but her eyes tell you she’s going to turn your existence into a world of pain.  Neville starts spitting out the information before Root can finish her sentence.

“Before this guy accepts you into the club he gives you the illegal stuff; kids, torture.”

Root looks at Shaw.  “Mutually assured destruction.  Someone snitches and he takes them down with him.”

Shaw studies Christophers.  “What's his name?”

“I don't know. We never met.”

But Shaw doesn’t believe him and Root trusts Shaw.  “Did you find any of the alleged ‘collateral’ Sims requires on Neveille’s computer?” 

“No.”

“So Neville here logs into a chat room and not only watches the video of Piper being murdered, but there’s no hard-core pornography, illegal, rough, on his computer.  I don’t think someone goes from no porn, no torture videos, nothing else of a reprehensible nature and then starts to watch snuff films in the making.”

Root’s watching the countdown on Neville’s computer.  “What do you do for a living Neville?”

“I own an appliance repair shop,” he pleads, “I’m not your guy.”

“My friend’s right about you Neville.  You see that picture in the chat room?  Behind the woman your friend’s about to murder, there’s a walk-in freezer.  Personally I don’t believe in coincidences.”  Root looks at Shaw like she’s asking the time.  “Do you Sameen?”  Shaw doesn’t answer but her face says it all.

“You’re going to die tonight Neville.  The question is only whether it’s a bullet to the head or I flay you alive.”  Root pulls the knife out of his hand and runs it along his face, hard enough to leave a trail of blood.  “Where is the freezer?”  He looks at Shaw desperately and finds nothing in her eyes.  Maybe he thinks they won’t kill him or maybe he believes Root’s threat, but he tells them what they need to know.  Shaw shoots him in the head as they head out.

“Now that I know the address, I’m hacking his signal and shutting down the chat room.”  Root monitors the feed, while Shaw completely ignores every traffic law in existences racing them to the location.  “He’s trying to get it back up Sam.”

 

* * *

 

Root and Shaw approach the storefront with a cautious urgency.  The windows are blacked out and there’s no way to see inside.  No way to know where the psycho has Vangelija.  “I’ve got the front Sam.”  Shaw wants to argue but there’s no time.

Root shoots out the deadbolt on the front door.  Hopefully the silenced muzzle wasn’t heard inside, but they can’t afford to wait.  If Sims’s restored the signal, Vangelija might die before they can rescue her.  Root follows muffled screams to a back room.  Vangelija’s duct-taped to a wide metal table in front of the freezer.  Sims must’ve heard the shot because he’s looking up expectantly when Root clears the doorway.

“I’ve always wanted a live audience,” he smirks.  Root sees Shaw stalking him from around the corner of the freezer, but gives no indication.  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you Tom,” Root tells him with a pout.  “You kill her and I kill you and then who will tell your story?”  Narcissists think everything’s about them and she’s trying to use it against him.  

Even a stone-cold serial murderer seems charmed by Root.  Shaw can see the epiphany in his eyes from her angle.  She can also see Root’s about to pull the trigger while Sims considers her question.  But from her angle Root _can’t_ see Sims already has the stiletto edge of the knife at least a half-inch deep into Vangelija’s neck.  Shaw recognizes the type; it’s double-edged and optimized for thrusting, but a slash to carotid will be just as deadly.  The impact from the bullet would likely cause Sims to jerk back and there’s no guaranteeing he won’t take the knife with him.  She nods her head no slightly and Root returns her finger to the trigger guard.

Root understands Shaw’s telling her not to shoot; so there’s something about this situation that makes shooting this psycho in the head dangerous to someone other than him.  Somehow she needs to get him to remove the knife from Vangelija’s throat and sooner rather than later.  The sounds coming from her throat tell Root she may already be drowning in her own blood.

“Why don’t we talk Tom?  There’s no rush.”

“I don’t want to keep my fans waiting,” he answers like he’s headlining a Broadway production.  “It’ll be worth it if you can give them a better show.”  Root sees him hesitate.  “I’m going to put my gun down and show you my badge.  Vangelija’s some random woman; but imagine your audience’s excitement if they get to see you murder an NYPD detective.”

Shaw thinks Root’s plan has zero chance of working; this guy has a type and Root’s perfect symmetry isn’t it.  But maybe it’ll distract him long enough to disarm or kill him without endangering Vangelija any further; she doesn’t much care which.  She sees the knowing look in his eyes; he thinks he can kill them both.  Now that would be a coup.  Not going to happen but they don’t need to disabuse him of that notion just yet.

“Slide your gun down the table first.”  Root does it slowly and the gun stops just short of his hand.  Now he has a choice; the gun or the knife.  She reaches into her back pocket with one hand and pulls out the expertly forged badge and reaches forward so he can take a closer look.  Shaw sees his grip on the knife relax and lunges, seizing his wrist in a vice-like grip, easing the knife out of Vangelija’s throat without further damage.  Either Vangelija faints or passes out from blood loss; either way she’s out of immediate danger.

Root stays back from the table, knowing intervening could do more harm than good.  What a day to be without a second gun.  Sims drops the knife when Shaw breaks his wrist.  But as she’s twisting his arm behind his back, he manages to grab the gun and shoot at Root.

All Shaw sees from behind him is Root falling to the floor and a pool of blood spreading outward from her head.  Shaw’s gun is tucked into her waistband since she needed both hands to steady the knife; so she turns, her momentum fueled by rage, taking Sims with her and slamming his head into the freezer. 

She checks Vangelija’s pulse; the wound on her throat’s not deep enough to be fatal.  She’s probably in shock from the trauma of the kidnapping and almost dying.  

Root better not be dying either or Shaw’s going to be seriously pissed off.  She skillfully examines Root’s head first; there’s a deep gash on the back of her skull.  She doesn’t feel a bullet wound although it’s impossible to be certain since her hair is matted with blood.  But she notices blood smeared on the edge of the metal table.  It’s probably the source of the gash in Root’s head.  She looks up at the wall to check the possibility the bullet might’ve missed her, but all she finds is smooth concrete.  She lifts Root carefully and finds another pool of blood masked by her leather jacket.

Root’s breathing’s labored and Shaw realizes a rib’s broken.  She reaches under Root’s shirt and finds an exit wound.  It’s possible the bullet ran along the ribcage under the skin before exiting her back, without actually passing straight through any vital organs.  Root groans and her eyes flutter open.

Shaw stares at her unamused.  “You got yourself shot.  Again.” 

“Did you kill him?”

“Not yet.”

“We need to know if Piper and Shayla are still alive, Sam.”

“First I need to make sure you _stay_ alive so I can tell you everything you did wrong later.”

“Careful Sameen; I might start to think you care,” she smirks, but it quickly turns into a grimace.

“I called 911.  We need to get out of here.”

“Bring him with us.”

“I can’t carry both of you Root!”  Shaw bites out exasperatedly.

“Put him in the trunk.  I’ll wait.”  Even with a gunshot wound and a concussion there’s no arguing with Root.  

“If you bleed out on the floor, I’ll be sure your grave says I told you so.”

Shaw zip-ties Sims, who’s still out of it, and dumps him in the trunk.  Root’s already on her feet, bracing herself on the table when Shaw comes back for her.  Shaw rolls her eyes, but damn it if this isn’t one of the things she finds so fucking sexy about Root.  She takes a bullet and gets right back up.

Shaw gets her into the back seat none too gently, her gangly limbs making it awkward.  “Try not to kill me before I die Sam,” Root teases even though her eyes are scrunched tight against the pain.  She knows Shaw’s rolling her eyes without looking. 

“Don’t go anywhere; I’ll be right back.”  Root opens her eyes long enough to roll them.  Shaw’s back a minute later and they can hear the sirens in the distance.

 

* * *

 

Root wakes up to Shaw sleeping next to her; not quite cuddling but close enough.  It’s adorable.  But even through the morphine haze, Root knows Shaw will freak if she wakes up.  She scoots over to the edge of the bed and Shaw opens her eyes a few seconds later.  Even though she just moved to avoid making Shaw uncomfortable, her consideration doesn’t extend to her words.  “I knew it was only a matter of time sweetie,” she sings-songs with a lascivious wink.

Shaw rolls her eyes and scowls, but to her credit doesn’t jump off the bed.  She stretches tiredly and checks Root’s vitals.  “I had to give you a blood transfusion and you’re on morphine.  It you annoy me too much I’m going to gag you.”

“Ooh, kinky; I like it,” Root says with a grin.  Shaw ignores her.  Giving Root any reaction only makes it worse.

“We don’t need to ask Sims about Piper and Shayla.”  Even on morphine, Root knows that means they’re dead. “They were in the freezer.  That’s what I went to check before we left.”  It's a sobering thought and Shaw can see the unmerited guilt in Root’s eyes.  But she doesn’t offer any comforting words; she wouldn’t know how.  By the time they got involved, the women were already dead.  So what’s the point in feeling anything about something they couldn’t have changed anyway?  But Shaw knows Root’s not like her; so she sits with her until Root drifts back to sleep, knowing Root takes comfort in her presence even if she shouldn’t.

 

* * *

 

Root’s been staring at Sims for an hour.  She’s not sure why; maybe she’s trying to unravel the bad code.  When she finally speaks, she startles him.  He’s been moaning through the duct tape; no doubt the pain from his broken wrist is excruciating.  Shaw didn’t bother to set it.

Sims doesn’t know enough to fear the calm in Root’s voice.  He probably still thinks she’s a police officer.  “You should wonder Tom, why you’re not in a police station or in handcuffs.  You see, I’m not a cop.  Although I suppose you could say I work in law enforcement," she smiles.

I used to be a monster; now I’m mostly reformed.  Maybe reformed is not the right word.  It’s just that I found Her and She doesn’t like it when I’m...bad.  The old me would’ve kept you alive for weeks while I indulged my more, uh, violent impulses; I like hurting people.”  Root cocks her head wistfully, sighing and casually waving around the gun in her hand but not actually aiming at him.  “But now you’re only alive for one reason.  Before I kill you I want you to understand something.  No one knows who you are or what you’ve done.  No one will ever know.” 

Root sees something in his eyes beyond the pain and he starts to struggle uselessly, although somewhat impressively, against the tape.  She understands it’s not his death he’s fighting.  “You’re a decent hacker Tom.  But compared to me you’re a singularity 13 billion years before the big bang.  You probably don’t understand the reference, but what it means Tom, is I’ve written a…well worm…fitting don’t you think?”  Root pauses like she’s waiting for an answer. 

“Right now it’s hunting down every matching video and still image taken from your…performances, using sophisticated image analysis software that makes the NSA look like a peeping tom.   Any computer you’ve ever touched, even virtually, will be scanned and every shred of the files will be corrupted, leaving nothing left to restore.  Every trace of your existence on the planet will cease to exist.”

Shaw’s not sure what Root wants to accomplish with this exposition, but she understands it’s something Root needs; a punishment to balance the karmic scales of good and bad code.  Shaw doesn’t judge.  At this point Sims is just an inconvenience keeping her from breakfast.  She wanted to kill him and bury him in Oyster’s Bay and be done with it.  She idly wonders if Sims noticed the plastic his chair now sits on.  Finch would go apoplectic if he found blood in the carpet.

When it seems Root’s done, Shaw shoots Sims in the head.  “Sameen!”  Shaw raises her eyebrows in question.  “I thought you were done; I’m hungry.”

 

* * *

 

“I wanted to kill him,” Root claims indignantly.

“No you didn’t.”  Shaw’s learning something about Root.  Whatever transmutation she’s undergoing has awakened in her the ability to feel regret and guilt for the things she’s done.  Killing Sims, no matter how reprehensible and deserving, would’ve been another wound for Root to bear.  Shaw’s not burdened by those feelings and she doesn’t give a fuck what Finch or the Machine think.  Do they really think nobody bleeds out or dies just because they shoot them in the leg?  Greer doesn’t really seem like the type to have any use for broken tools.

Root knows Shaw’s right.  But she never expected Shaw to see her so clearly or be so accepting, much less feel an inclination to protect Root from emotions Shaw’s never felt or understood.  She’s looking at Root like it’s no big deal and Root deserves her protection. Maybe it’s Root who hasn’t been paying close enough attention.  In this moment, insignificant to Shaw, Root can feel a shift; her world coming into focus in the eyes of the woman sitting next to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you, like me, finds it hard to keep thinking up names for the characters in your stories I found a great website: https://www.behindthename.com/random/


	4. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Root comes back to collect on Shaw's promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Vague reference to sexual assault.
> 
> All credit goes to MJ for her expertise on Linux and tattoo consulting services!

It’s been several weeks since Hedonism and Root and Shaw keep missing each other.  First Root’s rib had to heal and then the Machine sent her on a relevant mission.  Shaw’s not sure if she’s relieved or disappointed.  She’s gotten a few heavy breathing calls she’s ashamed to say she didn’t immediately hang up on.  There’s something about Root’s voice when she drops it an octave and whispers that just completely _does it_ for Shaw.  Sooner or later Root will show-up; of that she has no doubt. 

It’s been a dull day, the only number being ridiculously easy to save.  She’s bored and decides to go home.  She already worked out, cleaned her guns, and took Bear on a long walk, so there’s not much to do in the library and Finch’s getting on her nerves.

When she gets home she takes a scalding shower and orders take-out, popping open a beer while she waits.  A half-hour later there’s a knock; but instead of the usual delivery guy, it’s Root with her food.  “Give me that!” she snaps, but leaves the door open behind her.  “I missed you too sweetie,” Root coos.

Shaw’s mouth is already stuffed with food, which she figures is a good enough excuse for not denying she missed the smug hacker.  Root ambushes her dumplings and she’s not quick enough to stop her as Root prances out of her reach.  She growls and Root laughs.  “Don’t worry Sameen, I got two orders.”  Shaw rolls her eyes, but lets Root get away with the dumplings; the woman needs to eat before she disappears.

Shaw makes short work of the food and grabs another beer, leaning against the counter and studying Root.  She looks injury free at least, which means less work for Shaw.  She wonders about Root’s missions, but she’s not asking.  Until she notices a bruise on Root’s neck as she turns away. 

Shaw follows her to the couch but doesn’t let her sit.  She grips Root’s arm and gently brushes her hair back.  Shaw knows what hickeys look like; even mostly healed ones.  Root debates whether to let the jealousy she sees in Shaw’s eyes boil over.  Yes, she thinks she will.

She raises her eyebrows and looks pointedly at Shaw’s hand.  “I’m not going anywhere Sam; you can let go now.”  Shaw snatches her hand back and pushes Root away.  “I’ve reached my annoyance quota for the day; get out.”  Root ignores her and invades her personal space.  “Something you want to ask me Sameen,” she breathes.  Shaw feels a thrill race down her spine when she feels Root’s hot breath in her ear, but suppresses it.  “No, but you’re asking to get shot.  Out.”

Root pouts and Shaw scowls and rolls her eyes.  “But Sameen you said I could have you,” she reminds her coyly.  But Shaw expected this line of reasoning and her rebuttal’s swift.  “I specifically said it’s your ‘option tonight,’ so offer expired.  Out.”

Root quirks her lips.  “We both know you don’t really want me to leave.”

Shaw grabs her by her leather jacket and drags her to the door, anger radiating from every inch of her skin.  Root lets herself be dragged, but when they get to the door she turns suddenly and pins Shaw to the wall.  “You hate the thought of someone else touching me…”

“Yet you keep letting people do it,” Shaw snarls.  Root grins wickedly now that she goaded Shaw into the admission.  “Give me a reason not to…” she whispers.  Shaw can break the hold if she’s willing to hurt Root.  Root’s deceptively strong, but Shaw’s stronger and close combat’s her forte.  But then she’d just have to patch her up and _that’s_ why she’s not willing to hurt her.

Shaw knows her pupils have dilated and Root can feel the racing of her heart and the coiled need in her body.  Then she thinks about the night at the club.

In the one step she’d let Root take that night, she imagined what it would be like to watch Root with the brunette tongue fucking her, the back of her head obscuring the sight of Root’s pussy, bobbing up and down as she feasted.  She thought about the redhead marking Root’s skin and teasing her nipples; Root shoving her skirt up and fucking her with long elegant fingers.  She pictured Root’s mouth gasping as she climaxed, her eyes shut against their will.  Then one thought exploded in her mind.  “Mine.” 

But Root obviously doesn’t feel the same way; who knows what other marks Shaw would find if she let herself look.  The mark on Root’s neck’s already torturing her with thoughts of who she fucked while she was away.  Root sees the jealousy war with the possessiveness.  “Sameen…just tell me you want me.  It doesn’t have to mean anything else.”

Root doesn’t realize she’s loosened her grip until Shaw’s shoved her half way across the living room.  “Everything’s just a fucking game to you!” Sameen spits out venomously.  “I’m not a piece on your fucking chessboard!  I’m warning you Root, if you’re not out of here in the next 60 seconds I’ll forget the mission and end you!”  She slams the door open, rage marring her features.

But when Shaw turns back, something happens and she feels she’s suddenly looking at someone she’s never met.  Root’s eyes are wide-open and guileless, the smirk gone from her face; replaced by vulnerability.  It makes Shaw’s chest hurt.

“No Sameen, you’re not.  You’re the most remarkable person I’ve ever met and in the short time we’ve known each other you’ve trusted and cared about me more than anyone; in exactly _your_ way, with actions not words.”  Shaw shakes her head, whether to erase Root’s words or in exasperation’s not clear.  “I’m tired Root, just go.”

“I will, but I have about 45 seconds left,” Root reminds her as she approaches.  Shaw looks at her warily but she _is_ standing between Root and the door.  “I let myself get caught by surprise by a relevant number.  In addition to being a terrorist his predilections ran to the non-consensual, using the words euphemistically.  I had to choose between fighting his assault and letting him be distracted enough so I could grab the knife strapped to his belt.”

Shaw feels an overwhelming feeling of impotence, protectiveness and rage.  “Did he…”

“No.  But he did bite my neck and there’re a few on my chest, which will take longer to heal.”

“Why the games Root?”

“I needed to know you wanted me I guess…that you saw _me_.”

Shaw sighs deeply.  “You sure can be fucking clueless for a genius.”  She turns around and shuts the door.

She pulls Root into the bedroom and has her sit on the bed.  She lifts her t-shirt gently until Root raises her arms and lets her pull it off.  She immediately sees the damage.  “These bled.”  Sameen forces down her emotions at the sight.  She touches each one almost reverently.  “Does this hurt?”

“No.” 

Shaw sighs softly.  “Stop minimizing.”

“Yeah, the deep one…about a five.”

“When did this…happen?”

“The day before yesterday.”

Shaw’s trying really hard to dampen her anger, but there is just so much about this situation that’s fucked up.  “Why didn’t you come to me right away?”

“I was in southern Argentina.  I also felt embarrassed; I misjudged the situation and let myself get caught.”

“Root, missions go sideways all the time; you can’t foresee everything.  Where was She during all this?”  Shaw asks pointedly.

“I don’t know.”  Root exhales.

Shaw rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment further.  “The shallow ones won’t scar and seem to be healing fine.  But the deeper one is still swollen and irritated; an infection might be breeding.  I’m going to give you a topical pain reliever and a broad-spectrum antibiotic.  You only need to take it for five days, but you can’t miss a dose.”

“Thanks Sam.”  Root reaches for her shirt.  “You’re not leaving, Root.”

“Yes I am.  I don’t need or want pity from anyone; especially you.”

“You think I pity you?  I don’t even know what it looks like.  But I’m angry because I wasn’t there to protect you and I’m furious at the Machine for not watching your back.”  Root starts to shake her head, but Shaw rolls her eyes and stops her before she says anything.  “I know you can take care of yourself Root.  But everyone needs backup.  I do the protecting remember?”

Root looks into Shaw’s eyes searching for something.  “Is that all it is Sameen?”

“You tell me,” Shaw challenges.

Root smiles and drops her shirt.  But the night’s been an emotional roller coaster and neither one’s in the mood for anything other than sleep.  Shaw grabs Root some shorts and a tank top.  Root hesitates before she puts them on, reluctant to display the bites.  “You have nothing to be ashamed of Root.”  Shaw makes a point to look at her, all of her, and let the desire always simmering in the background show. 

Root was expecting awkward.  They fucked at the safe house, but it was a one-time thing and the minute they were done Shaw ducked into the bathroom.  But Shaw holds the sheet up until Root’s under, and then turns off the light.  “Good night Root.”  She turns on her stomach, flinging one arm over Root’s stomach.  “Good night Sameen.”  Root draws small circles on Shaw’s arm until she drifts off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

She wakes up sweating a few hours later and finds Shaw spooning her in her sleep.  She shifts gently onto her side so she can look at her.  Shaw’s beautiful in a deeply visceral way.  It’s not just her piercing eyes and her expressive eyebrows, which can condemn you to hell as easily as the grim reaper; or her full lips and all the shades of emotions they convey.  It’s the way her body tells a story if you learn her language and stop to listen.

Root knows she shouldn’t but she leans in anyway and captures Shaw’s lips, lightly tasting, gently tugging.  She expects Shaw will push her away even before she fully wakes.  But Shaw slowly opens her eyes and pulls her closer, leaning into Root’s lips and teasing them open.

The only light filters through the windows from the street and there’s a distant cacophony, the sounds of the city, vibrant and alive at all hours.  Shadows play on Shaw’s face, freeze frames flashing random features.

She captures Root’s lips in demanding exploration.  Root feels pursued and desired in a deliciously dangerous way.  Shaw slips her tongue into Root’s mouth teasingly and runs her fingers through Root’s sleep-mussed hair.  Root runs the pads of her fingers up and down Shaw’s toned back and squeezes her addictive ass. 

Shaw brings their lips together again and again, tugging and licking, studying Root with her mouth, discovering depth and dimension as she goes back for more and she can’t get enough.  She nips at Root’s lips sharply down to the dip in her throat, shadowing her mouth with her fingers.  She alternates savoring Root’s mouth with stroking her skin possessively.  Root looses all track of time as they kiss and Shaw knows she’s never kissed anyone like this, but she can’t stop and she doesn’t care what it means.  She lets her hand dip lower running it up and down Root’s leg and Root’s need and hunger surges. 

Root whispers an insistent plea in her ear, “I want you to obliterate his marks with yours.”  Shaw immediately latches onto her neck, sucking and biting the offending bruise until she feels blood pooling under the skin.  Root’s soaked and she’s burning for Shaw’s touch.  Shaw dips her head and licks tightening circles around her nipple and it feels like an eternity before she takes the hardened nub in her mouth, biting with her teeth, comforting with her tongue, while she scrapes down Root’s side with her nails, leaving lingering scratches down to her sculpted thigh. 

Root arches into her mouth, her hands gripping Shaw’s strong shoulders.  She moans Shaw’s name and her throaty voice sends shivers racing down Shaw’s spine.  Shaw avoids the deep bite on Root’s chest but claims every other and annihilates the painful reminders of someone else’s touch.  She asserts her right over every inch of skin, her tongue scorching from the valley of Root’s breasts to her belly button.

She climbs down impatiently until her head’s nestled between Root's legs.  She’s drunk on Root’s scent and takes a moment to just breathe her deep inside, caressing her legs, running her fingers from her calves to her hips and back.  Root feels worshiped; something no one’s ever cared enough about her to do.

The feel of Shaw’s hot breath ghosting over her sex makes her gasp in pleasure.  Shaw pulls back and plants increasingly rough kisses on her thighs, moving up one and down the other.  Root’s so turned on she can’t help but arch suggestively.  Suddenly Shaw kisses her slit purposefully and Root groans in anticipation.  Shaw works her way through her folds to just under her clit kissing every bit of her sex.  Root shivers and raises her hips again to Shaw’s mouth, her fists gripping the sheet under her. 

The warm air in the bedroom runs over the even warmer flesh of Root’s exposed sex, seeming to cool the heat of it without diminishing the raging flame of longing.  Shaw resumes discovering her thighs, up and down, avoiding her pulsing slit.  Root feels like she’s brimming with hunger for Shaw’s mouth.  She can feel her wetness running down to her ass. 

Shaw works her mouth closer and closer until she’s lavishing Root’s slit with attention again.  When she hits her clit, Root trembles and Shaw grins smugly.  She holds on to Root’s hips and licks and sucks and runs her tongue up and down Root’s inner and outer lips exquisitely.  She thrusts between her folds and Root wants Shaw more than she’s ever wanted anyone.  Shaw turns her focus to Root’s clit again and Root moans loudly.  She uses the soft underside of her upper lip to stroke Root’s hood tenderly, while running her tongue just underneath. 

Root knows no sex has ever felt like this.  She’s torn between wanting to come desperately and never wanting it to end.  Nothing exists but Shaw and her unquestionable control of Root’s pleasure.  Root bucks her hips as her orgasm crashes and rolls through her in waves.  She runs her hands through Shaw’s hair haphazardly and holds her head tightly, but Shaw growls in unmistakable demand and Root instead grips the headboard, her knuckles whitening from the force. 

Her orgasm keeps spiraling as Shaw increases the momentum of her strokes and Root looses all control.  “Sameen,” she manages to pant, “please don’t stop!”

She bucks against Shaw’s mouth as her second orgasm erupts, molten lava ravaging her body.  Shaw doesn’t stop and instead slips two fingers inside, dragging her pads down Root’s inner walls, and drawing another orgasm from Root’s thrashing body.  What seems like an eternity later Root starts to come down and Shaw licks her slit slowly as Root’s shudders fade away.

She drags herself up, breath harsh in her own ears, and lies down on her back next to Root.  Root’s bones have liquefied and it’s not until minutes later she’s able to move.  She turns to Shaw and claims her lips slowly, chasing her arousal around Shaw’s mouth as she relives every second.  Shaw allows it longer than she would’ve guessed before pulling away.

Shaw’s voice crashes into the silence.  “Is he dead?”  Root’s heart stops at the indirect implication Shaw cares.  “Yes sweetie, he’s gone.”

They linger comfortably in the silence until Root looks into Shaw’s eyes and sees a hunger starting desire coiling in her belly.  She gives a knowing look.  “Tell me what you want.”  Shaw reaches over to the nightstand and opens the drawer.  She pulls out a toy Root’s more than a little familiar with.  Root takes it from her hand slowly and smiles seductively.  “All you had to do was ask.”

Shaw pulls out a bottle and Root lubes the feeldoe.  Her eyes are blown wide as she studies Root’s every move.  Root braces over Shaw’s body and unhurriedly explores every inch of skin with her mouth and hands.  Shaw’s never felt so aware of another human being, of Root’s wavy sex-mussed hair, her tempting lips, but more than anything she’s aware of her chestnut eyes burning with light and fire. 

She throbs with an unfamiliar need and feels like the edges of her body melting and she’s becoming a part of Root.  She knows this feeling is dangerous, but she willfully _un-knows_ it.  So when Root’s moist and kiss-bruised lips reach for her she dives into them and drinks her in and lets herself be consumed by the blaze burning between them.

Shaw tastes like gunpowder and strength and for a moment their mouths press hotly together and Shaw tangles her hand in Root’s hair, placing her free hand on the nape of her neck and pulling her closer.  Her skin gives off a smoldering heat and when she intertwines their legs, Root growls with need.

There’s a conversation taking place beyond the physical hunger between them and it leaves Root breathless.  She knows she’s deliberately following a path strewn with the unknown and it may just be her undoing.  But she can’t stop herself.  She doesn’t want to stop herself because she’s never felt this _acutely_ , this _keenly alive_ as she has tonight with this fascinating woman writhing beneath her.

She can feel Shaw’s wetness painting her stomach and pulls away reluctantly from her embrace, reaching over.  Shaw leans up and guides the feeldoe into her.  Root moans as she feels the pleasurable intrusion and Shaw’s finger grazes her clit. 

Shaw leans back on her elbows, watching Root kneel between her legs.  As Root leans forward she reaches out and strokes the shaft, gaze locked on Root, and waits.  Their hands meet and they guide the tip to Shaw’s entrance together.

Root enters her with one smooth penetrating stroke and Shaw moans unwillingly.  “Root,” her voice rich with hunger and desire.  Their panting mouths press together as Root slowly starts to fuck her with long deep strokes.  She groans throatily every time Root buries the shaft deep inside her and their bare flesh meets.

They find a rhythm and Shaw wraps her arms around Root’s neck, urging her impatiently as they move together, the only sounds their ragged breaths and the muffled slaps of flesh meeting flesh.  The air's imbued with the smell of their sex, the sheets sticky with the evidence.

Every inch of Root's body responds to Shaw’s.  The feel of Shaw’s leg gripping her thrusting ass and the death-grip on her shoulders drives Root wild.  Shaw moans into Root’s ear unknowingly, placing wet hot kisses on her neck.   Root looks into her eyes, thrusting powerfully, her biceps bearing her weight so she can fuck Shaw the way she wants. 

Shaw’s always been orgasmic-centric.  Get off and get out and her mind’s usually on something else in the meantime.  But there’s something different about tonight, about Root.  The feel of Root’s skin, the smell of her breath as she pants into Shaw’s mouth and neck, the throaty moans, the way she’s fucking Shaw with absolute focus, the fearless way she reveals everything she’s feeling.  “Root.”  If Shaw heard the hunger in her voice she’d cringe, but she’s too focused on the sensation of Root thrusting into her.

Her name from Shaw’s mouth lands somewhere deep inside Root and she can’t hold back anymore.  She pauses at the end of the next thrust, grinding her hips into Shaw, her pelvis moving in hard short circles, pressing harder against one side and then the other.

Shaw feels her orgasm building and she’s holding her breath, intensifying the pleasure to almost unbearable highs, her nails scratching down Root’s back, until she’s dizzy from the bolts of electricity coursing through her body.  “Sameen come for me.”  Root's command sends Shaw over the edge and she growls, something inside her bursting, and it lasts forever and not long enough as they push and pull against each other until Root’s muscles give out and she drops sluggishly onto Shaw.

They lay breathing raggedly for a minute and then Root slides out and Shaw helps her pull the feeldoe out smoothly.  Root captures her lips in an affectionate kiss and Shaw doesn’t stop her as she expected.  Sleep starts to drag them under and Root cuddles into Shaw’s body, throwing her hand over Shaw's stomach as she rests her head on her shoulder and Shaw allows it.  She knows she should kick Root out, but she can’t remember why and she’s done thinking.  She pulls the comforter up over their bodies as they drift to sleep.

 

* * *

 

Root’s gone by the time Shaw wakes in the morning and she’s shocked to feel a pang of displeasure but there’s a note by the coffee maker.  “Mission; rain check on round two.”  There’s a smiley face and Shaw rolls her eyes. 

A couple of weeks later Root sends Shaw a picture.  It takes a second but Shaw realizes it’s a tattoo…over the bite that left an ugly scar on Root's chest.  The text answers a lingering question, although Shaw would never ask it.  “Yes, I’m yours.”

    


End file.
